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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24645868">So I wanna know (what's the name of the game)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsrainingcats/pseuds/itsrainingcats'>itsrainingcats</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Amortentia, Enemies to Lovers, Gryffindor, Harry Potter - Freeform, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, Howlers (Harry Potter), Hufflepuff, Humor, M/M, Nifflers, Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), Pining Arthur, Pranks and Practical Jokes, References to ABBA, The Love Is Requited They're Just Idiots, to quote the meme</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:40:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,300</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24645868</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsrainingcats/pseuds/itsrainingcats</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Amortentia smells differently to each of us, can you guess what that smell is based on?”<br/>Arthur dipped his stupid nose into the steam, inhaling it, and promptly started coughing. Ironic, Merlin smirked, that Arthur Pendragon would be allergic to the smell of love.<br/>“Whatever repels us, I expect. This stuff wreaks of Merlin.”<br/>That halted Merlin’s train of thought rather abruptly. Freya sniggered behind him, obviously realising the same thing as Merlin.<br/>“Quite the opposite, Mr. Pendragon, the Amortentia potion exudes what we are attracted to.”</p><p>Aka, yet another Hogwarts Enemies to Lovers AU but with a twist... Arthur thinks he's found his soulmate, Merlin thinks he's playing an intense game of gay chicken.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>709</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>So I wanna know (what's the name of the game)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/helgaahufflepuff/gifts">helgaahufflepuff</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey all,</p><p>I've had some bad writer's block so thought 'huh, I'll do a quick writing prompt and see if that helps', hoping to burst out 500 words before going back to my other fic. I haven't written an enemies to lovers style thing before and... obviously I got carried away. I don't know why I'm surprised at this point.<br/>Rating is just for a little swearing.</p><p>Big love to my beta reader, helgaahufflepuff. She's got a new fic up now - 'Fear Will Be Your Enemy', which is a frozen AU. It's both creative and beautiful, honestly, go check it out if you haven't already.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Merlin liked to arrive early to the first set of classes after summer. There was something empowering about swinging open the classroom door before anyone else had arrived, robes still smelling like the washing detergent they used at home, approachable smile plastered to his face, blank parchment anticipating the drip-drop of ink and – okay, <em>maybe</em> the main objective was to get a seat for him and his friends. Maybe the main objective also had something to do with avoiding the arrogant clotpole that he shared an unfortunate quantity of classes with. But the side-missions were important rituals too. Merlin’s teachers regarded him as a student that was enthusiastic to learn, highly organised, punctual, inquisitive, and first impressions were essential. To be fair, Merlin did genuinely enjoy most of his classes. Magic was, well, magical, enchanting, wonderful. Whilst Merlin had grown up knowing that his father, Balinor, was a wizard, Hunith insisted on his upbringing being as ‘normal’ as possible. He went to a muggle primary school, had muggle friends, and could appreciate that muggle technology filled the gaps stuck-up pure bloods refused to acknowledge.</p><p>But today, Merlin would not make his first class on time.</p><p>The reason for his tardiness was that his toast, rather rudely, decided to bite Merlin back at breakfast. One does not, generally, expect food to behave in such a manner and Merlin, who was always a little on edge at the start of term, startled so much that his elbow collided with Gwen’s coffee, covering himself in the liquid. Nobody at his table dared to mess with the rowdy bread in fear that they might hit Merlin with a ‘stupefy’, so the toast only stopped attacking him when it had pounded itself into a feeble pile of crumbs.</p><p>It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that the snickering Gryffindor table knew more than they let on. Cackling especially hard was Arthur Pendragon, who was a prime example of why wizards should be introduced to television and game consoles. Arthur’s only source of entertainment, aside from Quidditch, seemed to be antagonising Merlin - and, boy, was he dedicated. Merlin was 99% sure that the toast had been Arthur’s idea because nobody else would know what type of bread he preferred. The boy was so infatuated with Merlin that part of Merlin’s morning routine was devoting four to five minutes returning Arthur’s icy glare while he chomped on his toast.</p><p>Gwen threw a croissant in their general direction. It missed rather spectacularly, hitting a terrified looking second-year. Outraged, her friends sought revenge and soon food was flying everywhere. Merlin immediately gathered up his stuff and fled to the bathroom to dry his shirt and sort out some of the crumbs that had fallen through his shirt. Upon exiting, he quickly came to the realisation that a spilt coffee and toast hickies weren’t all that bad; he passed a tearful first year who had a sausage stuck up both nostrils and porridge dripping off his chin. Merlin guided them to the Hospital Wing and shook his head, scowling because it was all <em>Arthur’s</em> fault that this child would be forever known as sausage nose.</p><p>After all that drama, it was actually quite impressive that Merlin was <em>only</em> two minutes late when he burst into the potion’s classroom, cheeks reddened. The dungeons were cold as ever, yet an unusually warm and familiar smell made Merlin’s shoulders slouch, a dopey smile settling on his face. Merlin glanced around to find the source of the delightful scent, eyes stopping on a row of potions. The first was a gloopy, muddy concoction that might have been at home in Shrek’s swamp, the second a great goblet from which swirls of steam spiralled, presumably the source of the smell, and the third a slim vial of what appeared to be liquid gold. Slughorn beamed at him from behind the vapour, one end of his moustache tinted green from where it seemed to have fallen into the first potion.</p><p>“Merlin, my boy, take a seat, take a seat. I worried you weren’t coming!” Slughorn chuckled good-naturedly.</p><p>Merlin smiled back before aiming a well-deserved shake of the head at Gilli and Freya, who had paired up with a girl Merlin didn’t even know. This, he supposed, was why they were Slytherin and Ravenclaw, rather than Hufflepuff. Every single year he sat with them in potions but the one year he hadn’t managed to get to the room early, they failed to save him a seat. They had committed an atrocious act of disloyalty, leaving Merlin to either sit next to Elena, a kind but accident-prone girl from Merlin’s house, or alone. Scanning the room, his lip curled spitefully. <em>He wasn’t the last person here after all</em>. His suspected attacker still hadn’t arrived. With that in mind, he greeted Elena with a friendly wave, which Elena returned, knocking off all her books with the enthusiastic effort of it.</p><p>“Bloody hell,” Elena cursed, leaning down to retrieve her books, knocking her head on the desk as she did so.</p><p>“I know I told you to take a shower but really, Emrys, it’s like a beehive in here.”</p><p>Merlin snapped his head up, recognising the condescending tone of Arthur Pendragon. He touched his hair self-consciously, not having realised that his shampoo and conditioner was so distinct that it could be picked out from the opposite end of the classroom. Arthur, Merlin was delighted to note, had a tomato ketchup stain on his tie, making the characteristic golden stripes of Gryffindor disappear.</p><p>“Nice breakfast, Pendragon?” Merlin retorted.</p><p>“Now, now, boys,” Slughorn tutted, his eyes sparkling as if he knew something they didn’t. “Come forward everyone. I thought we’d start with some of the more recognisable potions today.”</p><p>Merlin joined Gilli and Freya, who were crowding around the first potion. He grimaced at the sight of it, recognising it in an instant, and pulled back. Arthur swapped his morning smoothie with Polyjuice potion in his third year. He threw up immediately but still transformed into a rather sickly looking Professor McGonagall. How Arthur had acquired the potion was beyond Merlin, but it was <em>not</em> a memory he’d like to relive.</p><p>“Any ideas on what this first one could be?” Slughorn asked, swirling the potion about with a long mixing spoon.</p><p>Freya’s hand shot up.</p><p>“Polyjuice potion, sir, it changes how you look.”</p><p>“Quite right, Freya, ten points to Ravenclaw. What about this next one?”</p><p>Merlin shifted his gaze to the next potion and smiled ruefully at the concoction, recognising its trademark mother-of-pearl sheen.</p><p>Except it wasn’t how Merlin remembered it. When eight-year-old Merlin had chanced upon a goblet of Amortentia, he recalled it smelling like the fresh bread his mother so lovingly baked, fresh linen and the moreish tinge of orange that wafted from the curiously small trees Gaius kept in his greenhouse. The absence of the bread was understandable, as Hunith, after watching a show that compared the various health benefits of different types of bread, now littered her loafs with so many dreaded pumpkin seeds that Merlin chewed with a grimace, silently fretting over the day he’d transform into Cinderella’s taxi. Merlin was also no longer attracted to the smell of oranges – an aggrieved patient of Gaius’ threw the fruit at Merlin’s head last summer, resulting in a very painful bump and newfound grudge for anything citric. The fresh linen was the only familiar smell, though Merlin supposed the lawn smell perhaps was influenced by the plants in his common room. But the other smell, the more prominent one, remained a mystery to him.</p><p>“Amortentia, sir,” Merlin said quickly, determined to not lose his favourite student status, lest he no longer be invited to the slug club.</p><p>“Top form, Merlin, a perfectly brewed goblet of Amortentia. Now, Amortentia smells differently to each of us, can you guess what that smell is based on?”</p><p>Arthur dipped his stupid nose into the steam, inhaling it, and promptly started coughing. Ironic, Merlin smirked, that Arthur Pendragon would be allergic to the smell of love.</p><p>“Whatever repels us, I expect. This stuff wreaks of Merlin.”</p><p>That halted Merlin’s train of thought rather abruptly. Freya sniggered behind him, obviously realising the same thing as Merlin.</p><p>“Quite the opposite, Mr. Pendragon, the Amortentia potion exudes what we are attracted to.”</p><p>It took a moment for the implications of that statement to hit Arthur but when they did, he looked paler and more afraid than ever. Merlin’s mother always said that she suspected Arthur had a ‘thing’ for him, because why else would he pick on him? Previously, Merlin had dismissed her claims as her being a typical mother, delusional, refusing to believe that her angel of a son could be disliked for being himself. But now, he realised, she could be right.</p><p>“I washed my hair last night,” Merlin hastily lied. “It’s got an, er, a strong fragrance?”</p><p>“No, you didn’t. Gwen said she played chess with you all night,” Lancelot said.</p><p>Curse Gwen and her inconveniently close relationship with Lancelot. He couldn’t very well call Gwen, his best friend and chess tutor, a liar, but Arthur’s blatant discomfort made Merlin’s heart pang.</p><p>“I-I couldn’t sleep and had a shower. At three in the morning. Gwaine was snoring.”</p><p>Gwaine squeaked indignantly from next to Arthur, where he had previously been looking rather smug over Arthur’s embarrassment, but didn’t bother protesting. It was well known that he snored. Hufflepuff had a house goal this month to find a potion that would stop him from doing it.</p><p>“You didn’t do a very good job then. There’s a piece of macaroni in there from dinner,” the random girl Gilli and Freya had befriended said. Merlin scowled, freeing his hair from the macaroni. What business was it of hers if he had pasta in his hair?</p><p>"Come now, let's leave Merlin's shower schedule alone. Although I wonder if you might tell us what <em>you</em> smell, my boy?”</p><p>That, Merlin thought, was an excellent way to move the conversation topic along. Arthur, though still on edge, seemed to realise that the worst was over and peered at Merlin curiously.</p><p>“Fresh linen, grass and- well, the last thing is by far the <em>strongest </em>but I don't know what it," Merlin began, before trailing off. There was something about that smell. Was it from the Hufflepuff kitchens, perhaps? "What’s that thing called? The thing you put in cookies?”</p><p>“Flour?” Gwaine said immediately. He was part of Merlin’s ‘kitchen hangout squad’, in which they aided the house-elves with their cooking, and had obviously been paying more attention to the house-elves than Merlin gave him credit for. Still, flour didn’t have a particularly strong smell, so Merlin shook his head.</p><p>“Eggs?” Lancelot suggested. Merlin shook his head again.</p><p>“Vanilla,” supplied Gilli and Freya’s friend, rolling her eyes. And, oh, yes, that was it. Vanilla! Delectably comforting, cosy, as if someone had put the ingredients of love into a bottle. Except this wasn’t <em>just</em> vanilla. It had an edge to it, something subtle and crisp.</p><p>“Yes- that’s it, vanilla! But it’s mixed with something else, I think.”</p><p>“Pear,” Gwaine grinned.</p><p>And if Merlin wasn’t astonished that Gwaine had guessed it so quickly, he might have realised that Gwaine only smiled like <em>that </em>if he was up to something.</p><p>“Exactly! Vanilla and pear. It smells <em>delicious</em>, really, but I don’t know where that’s from…” Merlin babbled.</p><p>“Same place as the Quidditch field grass,” Percival said, reaching into Arthur’s bag from the desk behind him to retrieve a cologne bottle. “Arthur.”</p><p>And wow, was the Amortentia always so obnoxiously strong?</p><p>Merlin sheepishly ducked his head. He was <em>not </em>attracted to any part of Arthur Pendragon. He was <em>not attracted to Arthur. </em>Arthur made his life a living nightmare. Merlin couldn’t stop thinking about him most of the time because he was <em>so annoying</em>, with his know-it-all, attention-seeking ways, determined to follow Merlin wherever he went and comment on whatever he was doing. It was infuriating. He was infuriating. Merlin didn’t like the way the strands of Arthur’s hair glowed in the sunlight. Merlin didn’t like the way Arthur’s arms stretched when he played Quidditch, making his heart race as he nearly toppled off his broomstick just to catch a ruddy ball. Merlin didn’t like the way Arthur was friends with most of his friends but would still rather pester him than talk to them.</p><p>He just <em>happened</em> to smell nice. That was all.</p><p>That was all.</p><p>“Hey, give that back!” Arthur yelled, shoving the incriminating bottle of Marc Jacobs into his bag.</p><p>“Ah, to be young,” Slughorn chortled. “Ten points to Hufflepuff, Merlin, a superb example. Amortentia is a highly dangerous potion that creates an addictive scent, personal to whatever attracts us, even if we are unaware of where that fondness stems.”</p><p>Those ten points didn’t feel worth the humiliation but whatever. <em>So what</em> if his classmates were misled to believe he was attracted to Arthur? He knew they were wrong. <em>Arthur</em>, probably, knew they were wrong.</p><p>“Sir, what’s in the last one?”</p><p>“Oho,” Slughorn said, clapping his hands together. “That one, ladies and gentlefolk, is a rather rare little potion called Felix Felicis. It’s incredibly difficult to make – and disastrous to get wrong – but if it succeeds, well, you seemed to recognise the name, Gilli.”</p><p>Of course, Gilli would. He tried to brew some last year in time for Quidditch try-outs. Unfortunately, he’d brewed it incorrectly and sprouted a third arm instead.</p><p>But something Slughorn said there, ‘incredibly difficult to make – and disastrous to get wrong’, made Merlin jolt with realisation. Slughorn could <em>easily</em> have missed out one of the ingredients in the Amortentia potion or stirred it the wrong way. If he knew for a fact (which he did, definitely, yes), that the potion made him feel giddy with hate, not love, then it would make perfect sense that the same thing happened to Arthur. What was it he said earlier? That it smelt like ‘whatever repels us’. Merlin breathed in the traitorous steam. Yes, Arthur was right all along.</p><p>He shot an apologetic smile to Arthur, who was looking distinctly disorientated but reciprocated the smile instantly. <em>I think you’re right</em>, he mouthed to him. Arthur looked dazed, which made perfect sense. They scarcely ever agreed on anything.</p><p>“If brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find success wherever you go.” Merlin scoffed. Evidently, Slughorn was capable of messing up the Amortentia, what’s to say he hadn’t made this one wrong too? “This will be the prize today… to be used on an <em>ordinary</em> day only, Gilli, don’t think I won’t have my eye on you… for whoever can brew the best Draught of Living Death.”</p><p>If Merlin had wanted to win the Felix Felicis, he would have been sorely disappointed. Elena, who was desperate to brew a decent potion just to go through ‘one day that I don’t trip over my bloody feet’, had a disaster. Merlin wasn’t sure what she’d added but one moment he was stirring clockwise, the next he heard a- “Fuck no, no, <em>no</em>!", as an unpleasant smell made Merlin gag. The cauldron started hissing and, as if retorting to her objection, exploded, smothering them both in hot, green liquid.</p><p>*</p><p>Merlin assumed his friends would have been concerned about his absence or at least act sympathetic when he returned from the hospital wing that evening. It had been a tiresome morning – the toast, love potion, explosion, and missing his first charms class of the year. Elena's potion had not only left greenish marks against Merlin's skin but also meant that he'd spent the entire day repeating 'it's fine' and 'don't worry about it' to Elena. He felt exhausted, mentally and physically, and wanted nothing more than a huge hug, hot chocolate, some well-deserved pity and sleep. </p><p>He forgot that, what with this being the first day of classes and all, the Hufflepuff common room would be in full party mode. Gwaine had somehow obtained a crate load of butterbeer and fire whisky from goodness-knows-where and kidnapped the Hogwarts frog choir frogs. Rather than a pat on the back, one of the frogs mistook Merlin’s hair for a bowl of soil and promptly sprung onto his head. Even Gwen, kind and patient and lovely Gwen, hunched over in laughter.</p><p>After carefully placing the frog on a lily and skimming through the charms notes Gwen had taken earlier that day, Merlin collapsed into an armchair by the fire and started to doze off. Big mistake. Big, big mistake. He awoke to a frog-Hufflepuff collaboration rendition of ‘Take a Chance on Me’, in which Gwaine wittily swapped ‘Me’ for ‘Arthur’. </p><p>Merlin stormed to bed, sorely regretting the day he insisted on introducing his house to ABBA.</p><p>*</p><p>At breakfast the day after That Potions Class™, a tawny owl dropped a crimson coloured envelope on the table. Wiping off the baked bean juice that blurred the beautiful ink on the front confirming that Merlin was, indeed, the intended recipient, anticipation blossomed. Merlin never received formal letters such as this. Gaius’ letters always came with some colourful potion stains curtesy of St. Mungo’s Hospital, Hunith worked such long hours as a nurse that she could only afford to scrawl down quick notes to him every now and then, and Will insisted on Merlin smuggling a mobile phone to Hogwarts, objecting to owls on the grounds of their service being an old-fashioned and extravagant form of communication in this day and age. The mobile phone only ever got reception in the astronomy tower but it was admittedly easier and kinder than bothering an owl.</p><p>Could it be that his father, who was situated in Romania currently, training dragons, was finally in touch? Was it a letter from the Daily Prophet, announcing that he, Merlin Emrys, was the winner of a lottery he hadn’t even entered and should expect a million golden galleons shortly?</p><p>Or maybe it was from the hospital.</p><p>What if his mother had contracted a virus from one of her patients? What if Gaius had gone too far on a potion? What if a dragon <em>ate</em> his father? What if Will fell out of <em>another</em> tree?</p><p>As if the letter could read his thoughts, the corners of the paper grew warm, curling slightly in his grasp. Uh-oh. A steaming letter was never good. Merlin frowned at the paper, silently wondering why he couldn’t have a normal breakfast for once.</p><p>“You should open that,” Gwen said timidly, face ashen.</p><p>He nodded at her, recognising that whatever happened, Gwen would be there for him. Inhaling the odd smell of burnt bean juice, Merlin eased his thumb against the glue that held the envelope together, slitting it open.</p><p>The effect was immediate. The letter uncurled itself to form a mouth, fangs sharp enough to bite a painful cut. Sparks flew across the table, sprinkling their table in ashes. And then the roaring began, a great loud sound, as if someone had revved up a car next to a microphone.</p><p>“ROSES ARE RED-”</p><p>The letter began, voice so loud that cutlery rattled and, dammit, there went Gwen’s coffee again. People were swivelling around in their seats to see what had caused the commotion.</p><p>A VIOLET ISN’T A BLUEBELL</p><p>YOU LIKE HOW I SMELL.”</p><p>And with that, the red envelope burst into flames, as if it had been sent by Satan himself, disintegrating into ashes. The sheer volume of the letter had apparently stopped his brain from processing because all Merlin could think about was how negligent the health and safety department was here. This would never be allowed in the Muggle world. What if you got one while you were working with flammable gases?</p><p>“So, that’s a howler. They don’t <em>usually</em> get used for love poetry,” Gwen said after a moment of silence.</p><p>“But-wha-who-?” Merlin spluttered, mouth uncooperative.</p><p>“Arthur, I expect. I wish he’d stop interfering with breakfast, my coffee <em>always</em> gets hit. We might have to consider eating with the house-elves if this keeps happening.”</p><p>Gwen poured herself a fresh cup and started a debate with Elena over the most wholesome type of dog. Merlin still couldn’t understand what exactly had happened. Appetite gone, he pushed his beans away and swung his legs out, deciding to get to Divination before any more mishaps.</p><p>He found his path blocked by an overwhelming smell of vanilla and pear.</p><p>“Pretty good, right?” Arthur said, looking smug.</p><p>Merlin gaped at him for a moment before realising that Arthur was referring to the Howler. It was an unusual prank to pull, he had to admit, imaginative and <em>slightly</em> less disruptive than the toast. Slightly. He was surprised that Arthur hadn’t gone down his usual route and criticised Merlin’s ears, brain or clothing, but mocking him through embarrassing poetry was at least creative.</p><p>“It was okay. The second line had too many syllables though.”</p><p>Not to mention that the third line was wrong. Merlin did not like the delightful cologne that Arthur wore. No. Not at all.</p><p>“Silly balls? You can never have too many balls.”</p><p>Typical Quidditch player, Merlin scoffed before scurrying past him, determined to get to Divination early. He’d never understand why Quidditch felt the need to have that many balls. It was as though the creator had been asked whether they wanted their game to be more like a flying version of ‘basketball, table-tennis, badminton or rugby’ and said ‘yes’ to all.</p><p>*</p><p>But if Merlin thought that was all Arthur had up his sleeve that day, he was sorely mistaken. Divination was usually a peaceful class, a <em>safe</em> class, a class in which Merlin could sleep. He worked out in fourth year that Sybil Trelawney absolutely adored banana muffins, meaning that he could do minimal work and still be on her good side if he dropped a few on her desk. Arthur, thankfully, hadn’t pursued divination past O.W.L. level, telling anyone that would listen that he considered it poppycock.</p><p>Ascending up the silver stepladder that led to Trelawney’s lair, Merlin’s nostrils were, yet again, invaded with perfume. Fortunately, this was a thicker, more floral scent that made Merlin yawn in anticipation of some well-deserved sleep. The Divination classroom had always been a comforting room for Merlin, bathed in a rosy light that made it challenging to think hard about anything. He poured himself a cup of tea and set a muffin down on Trelawney’s desk.</p><p>“Good morning, Merlin,” Trelawney said in a floaty voice, fingers snatching the muffin. “I sense that you are troubled.”</p><p>Trelawney usually sensed that, so Merlin paid no heed and settled himself on his usual sofa. Morgana, a fifth-year student who was put ahead a year in Divination because Trelawney foresaw her having hidden talent, joined him a few minutes later. Despite, or perhaps because of, Morgana being Arthur’s sister, the pair became fast friends last year, bonding over Arthur’s condemnation of Divination, which Merlin had pointed out to likely be a consequence of him failing almost every assignment.</p><p>Gwen joined their table, throwing a piece of toast at him. Merlin was now wary of toast and instinctually moved back. Trelawney, who had been adjusting a curtain, jolted as the toast hit the floor near her.</p><p>“Toast on Tuesday…” she muttered, picking the bread up and gasping. “A symbol of fire and destruction.”</p><p>“You barely ate anything at breakfast,” Gwen explained, settling her cup of tea down on the table, looking like quite the mother hen. She hadn’t noticed where the toast landed. “And, you didn’t wait for me, I’m wounded.”</p><p>“Didn’t want to chance getting anymore howlers."</p><p>“Let’s hope that he doesn’t try to write anymore poetry,” Morgana quipped, taking a sip of tea.</p><p>“I see you have foreseen that today will be a Tassology session, very good,” Trelawney praised the class. Merlin thought that her putting the teacups, kettle and leaves near the trapdoor was enough of an indicator without needing the ‘inner eye’ to help but smiled encouragingly at her anyway. “I do not believe you need further instruction.”</p><p>This reminded Merlin of Will’s descriptions of his ICT teacher, who objected to answering any of their questions on the grounds that they could ‘just Google it’. He downed his tea, preferring to drink it before it got cold, and flicked open his textbook, assuming that they would be reading tea leaves. What else was there to do?</p><p>Merlin looked down at the dark grains, willing them to come to some sort of shape. They didn’t. It was like cloud gazing, too vague and wispy to be anything decisive.</p><p>“Any idea what these could be?” he asked the girls.</p><p>“A misshapen heart?” Gwen guessed.</p><p>“My cold, black heart,” Morgana confirmed.</p><p>Apparently, the commotion of Gwen and Merlin stifling laughter was enough to catch the attention of Trelawney. It was no secret that Morgana was her favourite student, and she seemed determined to get evidence that Morgana was destined to be a great seer.</p><p>“Morgana, my dear, what can you read in Merlin’s leaves?” Trelawney inquired, sweeping across the classroom. Merlin grimaced at the sight of the now-dusty piece of toast Gwen had gotten him, stuffed into Trelawney’s purple robe pockets.</p><p>“At first I thought it was an angel, but now I think it might be a swan.”</p><p>Morgana certainly had a talent. A talent for thinking fast and sucking up to their professor. Annoyingly, the rest of the class was silent, and Merlin felt, yet again, the curious sensation of being centre of attention.</p><p>“A swan?” Trelawney peered into the teacup. “Oh yes, Merlin, you are in for a successful love life. My Inner Eye sees through your unsettled, insecure exterior… your heart is pining for a companion but alas, you will suffer first… perhaps you are suffering already, from being apart… yes, your soul yearns painfully, but what you dread should not be feared.”</p><p>This was met with snickering from the entire class.</p><p>Well, nearly the entire class.</p><p>“Merlin, you should have said something,” Gwen exclaimed, looking genuinely concerned.</p><p>He was quite happy by himself, thank you very much. Sixth year came with enough homework that getting a romantic partner hadn’t exactly been top of his priority list. But this, coupled with the Amortentia and Arthur’s appalling poetry certainly hadn’t helped his whole ‘happy being single’ image.</p><p>“The only thing I’m yearning right now is to disappear,” he said through grit teeth.</p><p>“Oh, the agony of feeling unloved,” Trelawney sighed, misinterpreting his words completely and patting him on the head. Merlin felt the pat was perhaps a little unnecessary.</p><p>Cenred and Morgause were doubled over by this little addition. Even Morgana seemed to be struggling not to contain herself. The only one that was taking this seriously, far too seriously, was Gwen, who nodded emphatically.</p><p>“That’s curious, professor, I had a dream last night that Merlin was dating my brother.”</p><p>
  <em>That was uncalled for.</em>
</p><p>“You are a gifted child, Morgana, and if I am not mistaken, I believe you…”</p><p>Merlin tuned out. There was absolutely no way anything would convince their year that Merlin didn’t pine for Arthur now. It was really quite inconvenient. All Merlin wanted was a normal first week back. All Merlin wanted was to arrive early to his classes, have a good head-start on sixth year, and impress his teachers.</p><p>Instead, Merlin had to endure his classmates whispering, “Your poor, lonely heart Merlin” and “Don’t worry, I’m sure Arthur will snog you soon”, repeatedly for the next hour.</p><p>He glared at Morgana, annoyed that she would add fuel to the fire that was Merlin’s widely speculated love-life, “That’s a strange dream you had.”</p><p>“Please, I dreamt that I was thieved by a magical stoat – far more interesting than the prospect of you dating Arthur,” Morgana snorted, scrawling down some notes.</p><p>Now he was really displeased. It would have been entertaining to watch Trelawney ramble on about how a magical stoat dream clearly showed Morgana’s mystical prowess.</p><p>“Why would you make that up?”</p><p>“Arthur promised me a chocolate frog for it. I figured it’s a win-win situation. You can have the chocolate and I get the card.”</p><p>This, Merlin supposed, was why Morgana had been sorted into Slytherin. She had an ambitious and scheming edge to her. The <em>crafty weasel</em> knew that chocolate frogs were Merlin’s weakness and anything she did would be forgiven immediately.</p><p>“Fine,” Merlin relented, supposing that the teasing would probably stop after this class.</p><p>*</p><p>The teasing did not stop. If anything, it got worse. In charms, Professor Flitwick made a pun about how ‘charming’ he’d heard Arthur had been to Merlin recently. Fortunately, whilst Arthur took charms too, he was sat at the opposite side of the room and hadn’t heard.</p><p>Unfortunately, Gwaine did hear and decided to make Merlin suffer during their study session in the library later that day. Merlin considered casting a spell to glue his mouth shut but ultimately concluded that it wasn’t worth the house point loss. His temper was, therefore, shorter than a goblin by the time Arthur decided to join their table.</p><p>“What’re you doing?” Arthur asked Merlin.</p><p>Fishy. That was an amicable, polite question. Guard up, Merlin decided not to give too much away to the enemy. No doubt he was here to make Merlin’s homework shred itself.</p><p>“Potions homework,” he grunted, deciding the best move would be to be short with him, uninterested. “Gwaine, do you have your potions book? I can’t remember what’s in Felix Felicis.”</p><p>“Sorry mate. Why don’t you ask Prince Charming?”</p><p>Merlin muttered ‘colovaria’ under his breath, changing Gwaine’s hair to a cabbage colour. He smiled deviously at the results. Arthur, meanwhile, seemed to be thinking hard. This surprised Merlin as he didn’t know Arthur was capable of thinking.</p><p>“Dunno but, er, it’s a shame you can’t bottle me up. I feel like the luckiest man alive.”</p><p>“Good for you?” Merlin said, understandably confused. He’d been in the same room – the same table – as Merlin for more than thirty seconds now and hadn’t insulted him. <em>The audacity.</em></p><p>“Aren’t you going to ask me why?”</p><p>Ah, this was it. An insult was, surely, on its way.</p><p>“No," Merlin said, heart racing in anticipation.</p><p>“It’s largely because of you.”</p><p>Merlin considered that for a moment.</p><p>He decided Arthur had a point. He was lucky. Very lucky Merlin hadn’t emptied his ink pot over Arthur’s stupidly blonde hair yet.</p><p>“Lovely. I’m going to grab some lunch, see you later.”</p><p>*</p><p>“Can anyone tell me what these are?” Hagrid asked in magical creatures class later that day.</p><p>Merlin liked Hagrid an awful lot, but he did have a bad tendency of presenting them with animals that were either enthusiastic over barbecuing Merlin, and exclusively Merlin, (blast-ended skrewts, fire crabs and even a dragon once). Of course, the flubberworms, kneazle and hippogriff were harmless, and Merlin found the class intriguing enough to carry on with the class despite the burns. But he still looked upon the fluffy brown creatures warily. </p><p>“Nifflers! I asked for one for Christmas, but my dad got me an owl instead."</p><p>“Yeh better off with an owl, Gwen, nifflers have a bad habit of stealin’. They like sparkly stuff, see, so put yer valuables in here straight away, else they’ll get taken.” The class complied. Hagrid was rare to criticise any creature, so if even he thought nifflers were thieves, they were probably doomed. “I’ve buried a hundred coins – all leprechaun gold, mind, so don’t be gettin’ any ideas – pick a niffler and whoever gets the most wins a prize.”</p><p>Merlin went for the closest niffler and beamed at how soft it was. </p><p>“Going to dig up Arthur with that, are you Merlin?” Cenred spat in his direction, ruining his peaceful moment.</p><p>“Wassat? Oh, Merlin, here, you do this patch.”</p><p>Merlin put his niffler down and watched as it dug around, snout unafraid to combat worm or dirt, doggedly getting deeper and deeper until… there. A box. A metal box. The niffler discarded it, obviously deciding that it was not pretty enough. Merlin wondered if perhaps it was a time capsule or a long-abandoned tuna can.</p><p>And he should have seen it coming, really, because Hagrid’s beetle black eyes had been getting glossier by the second, as if tearful over some great, sentimental moment.</p><p>But honestly.</p><p>Who expects a random metal box dug up by a <em>niffler</em> to contain a bottle of cologne and packet of love hearts, with a label attached reading ‘don’t drink me’?</p><p>What irked Merlin even more than the stupid cologne and (admittedly very tasty) sweets was the fact that he recognised Arthur’s handwriting straight away. It was thoroughly annoying.</p><p>A loud sobbing sounded behind him. Merlin turned to see the half-giant mopping up what must have been a basin full of tears with his sleeves. Uther hadn't allowed Arthur to continue with care of magical creatures but apparently that didn't upset his friendship with Hagrid. Arthur probably saved Hagrid from a lot of trouble, thinking about it. He always came to class with a big tube of anti-burn cream that he'd insist on everyone using, even Merlin, if they got hurt.</p><p>“Er, Hagrid?”</p><p>“S’lovely,” Hagrid sniffed, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “Bin wonderin’ what he put in there.”</p><p>Merlin shoved the cologne and love hearts into his pocket. </p><p>“Right, well, that’s great. Just great.”</p><p>*</p><p>Things escalated further the next day. It wasn’t Merlin’s fault. He didn’t even want to go to Gryffindor’s try-outs that afternoon. If it wasn’t for Gwen being such a lovely, supportive girlfriend to Lancelot, Merlin could have been catching up on his charms work. He had pleaded with Gwen all evening, even offering her a love heart inscribed with ‘DEAR ONE’, but when Gwen finally relented, she looked so forlorn that Merlin knew he was doomed. That was the problem with Gwen, she was too adorable to disappoint.</p><p>Still, Merlin complained while they walked down to the pitch. September was meant to be <em>warm</em>, and Merlin had dressed accordingly in his school robes. It was not allowed to rain.</p><p>“We’re in England, Merls,” Gwen explained briskly, as if this answered everything.</p><p>To be fair, it did. British weather was 75% rain, 10% ‘weren’t we promised snow this week?’, 10% ‘bit nippy out isn’t it?’ and 5% ‘mother, what is that bright circle in the sky and why does it burn me so’.</p><p>“Isn’t this technically Scotland?” he whined, crossing his arms and shivering dramatically.</p><p>“That really doesn’t improve your argument.”</p><p>She spotted Morgana ahead and bounded over to say hello. Merlin felt too grumpy and damp to join them. Water droplets slid down his face, cool and wet. Obviously, he could have swished his wand and made the rain deflect him or warmed himself up. But then he wouldn’t be able to complain, and Merlin very much enjoyed being a drama queen. He imagined for a moment that he was in the Notebook, usually a reliable way to imagine rain into a better thing.</p><p>His Ryan Reynolds moment was, for lack of a better word, dampened somewhat by a blur of gold and scarlet entering his field of vision.</p><p>“What’s all this?” he said, arms flailing to whack his assailant.</p><p>He realised quickly that it was just a scarf. A Gryffindor scarf. If he was in Slytherin, this might have been considered a lethal attack. But Hufflepuffs didn’t really mind much about houses. Or at least Merlin didn’t, he couldn’t speak for his entire house. He was loyal, yes, but he wasn’t going to base his friendships on whether a talking hat claimed someone was ‘daring’ or ‘wise’ when they were eleven. Nobody is wise at that age.</p><p>“My scarf, to keep you warm,” said a familiar voice.</p><p>Even in the rain, Merlin could smell his cologne, strong and tempting… temptingly stupid, yes, very, very stupid… Merlin pivoted around. Scarfs could be used to aid strangulation, perhaps that was why Arthur had thrown it at him. He didn’t think Arthur hated him quite that much but what did he know?</p><p>To Merlin’s absolute confusion, however, Arthur let the scarf go and started stroking his face. His cold, rain-damp, face. That was odd. That was really odd. He had a suspicious look in his eye, a look that almost resembled fondness. Weird.</p><p>And then, Arthur leaned in. And his lips. His stupid pink lips. Were on Merlin’s cheek. Fleetingly, albeit, but still there, pressing a chaste kiss there.</p><p>What was that about?</p><p>What in the name of Benny Andersson was that?</p><p>Aghast, Merlin waited for an explanation. Arthur, however, just tightened the scarf, rolled back on his heels as if contemplating something briefly, then walked towards the pitch, broomstick in hand. As if he normally kissed him on the cheek. As if that was ordinary, acceptable behaviour. As if Merlin wanted to be kissed.</p><p>Well.</p><p>If Arthur wanted to play that way, fine. Merlin saw through it all now. The love poetry, the cologne, the flirting, the presents… there was only one answer. Arthur, the great weasel, was challenging him. This was a classic Arthur game. He wanted Merlin to crack. Oh yes, Merlin understood everything now. He wanted Merlin to ask him what was going on, wanted him to look confused, red-faced, bewildered. But he would not be outdone. Not at all. If Arthur wanted to kiss him with no explanation, then he could go ahead. Merlin wouldn’t be phased by it. </p><p>He sped up to catch up with Gwen and Morgana.</p><p>“Ooh, nice scarf!”</p><p>Merlin looked down at the scarf. The red actually did look quite fetching on him, though having gold as a house colour seemed a bit extra. At least Hufflepuff were modest enough to stick to the proper colour chart, rather than including expensive, metallic tones. Still, it matched the invisible crown Arthur seemed to think he had.</p><p>“He could be a keeper,” Gwen giggled.</p><p>“Wha-no, he’s a, er, a chaser. A chaser," Merlin corrected her. She should know that by now, what with how much Lancelot waffled on about Quidditch. </p><p>“Yes, he is quite persistent,” Morgana observed. “You’re an odd couple.”</p><p>“A couple of idiots," Gwen added. "Come on, I want good seats.”</p><p>*</p><p>From that moment on, Arthur was, impossibly, even more insufferable than usual.</p><p>He joined them at breakfast every day and said the strangest things, like “You look nice today” when Merlin was literally wearing the same robes he wore every single day. What was that supposed to mean? Did Merlin usually <em>not</em> look nice? Did he have a hot chocolate moustache that Arthur was making fun of? Did he prefer the Hufflepuff colour scheme to Gryffindor? Was this all an elaborate scheme to get him to swap robes with him?</p><p>Whilst Merlin could just about cope with Arthur’s seemingly endless stream of insults, obnoxious comments and elaborate pranks, he found the compliments bewildering. There were still a few insults laced in – it seemed that Arthur couldn’t function without those – but they were spoken in a softer, more affectionate voice. As if his idiocy was now endearing.</p><p>And then there were the kisses. If you could call them that. Close-lipped pecks against his cheek or on his forehead. Merlin tried to roll with it, tried to play it cool, but his cheeks apparently hadn’t got the memo.</p><p>The handholding was perhaps the most annoying thing of all. Arthur almost always managed to slip onto Merlin’s right side, meaning he would grab Merlin’s right hand with his left, leaving him stranded. How was he meant to eat beans or cereal with only a left hand? Obviously, Merlin couldn’t say anything or protest because then he’d lose the game, so he’d been forced to change his breakfast options. Croissants, though flaky and not terribly filling, ticked the ‘no drip-factor’ box, making them the safest food option.</p><p>Of course, Merlin’s friends found the entire thing hilarious.</p><p>“Get a room already” and “stop being so cute” were just a couple of their favourite lines. Merlin generally gave them the finger or rolled his eyes when they teased them. It was bad enough suffering Arthur; he didn’t need them against him too.</p><p>Thankfully, this advance in Arthur’s tactics meant the very public, mortifying displays of affection came to a halt. Arthur still got him gifts and sprouted nonsense about his feelings, but it wasn’t shouted across the dining hall for all to hear. He suspected that Arthur was still telling Hagrid too much about their relationship, which was unsurprising. Arthur got on well with Hagrid and visited him at least twice a week. </p><p>On September 20<sup>th</sup>, Arthur asked Merlin on a date to Hogsmeade. He was actually rather an impressive actor. If Merlin didn’t know better, he’d have said that Arthur looked nervous.</p><p>“Oh sure, I expect you to take me to Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop,” Merlin laughed in response.</p><p>As a matter of fact, Arthur <em>did</em> take Merlin to Madam Puddifoot’s, though it was jam-packed with Hogwarts students already, thank goodness. Merlin suggested that they go elsewhere, and they eventually wound up at Honeydukes, where Arthur bought him a no-melt ice cream. Merlin decided this was fair payment.</p><p>“I <em>deserve</em> to be paid in ice cream for putting up with you for a day,” Merlin explained to him. “I don’t know if I like that these ones don’t melt, though. I sometimes melt mine on purpose and drink them as milkshakes.”</p><p>He licked his ice-cream thoughtfully and wondered how Arthur had known vanilla was his favourite ice-cream flavour. Was it inconsiderate that Arthur hadn’t asked what he wanted? It could be, he supposed. Although Merlin doubted that he’d have allowed Arthur to pay for his ice-cream if he’d known.</p><p>“Mm, you’ll have cold lips this way though.”</p><p>There it was. The flirting. Merlin was fairly used to it now, and merely nudged him with his shoulder, rolling his eyes. They didn't even have an audience now but that hadn't stopped Arthur from acting this way on their numerous walks around the lake, so it made sense that he'd be just as ridiculous on their 'date'.</p><p>“I’ll have cold everything. The brain freeze on these is incredible.”</p><p>“Shame you don’t have a brain to freeze.”</p><p>Ah, and the insult.</p><p>“Just for that, you can’t hold my hand,” Merlin announced, and pulled his right hand away, letting it swing by his side instead.</p><p>“But I’m cold.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I don’t have enough brain power to know what hands are.”</p><p>They came up to the shrieking shack and gazed at it while they ate their ice-creams. The building had once been speculated to house ghosts, but it was revealed fairly recently that it was actually a refuge for a past student afflicted with lycanthropy. Still, the boarded-up windows and patchy roof made a haunting image that was even more chilling with the addition of ice-cream.</p><p>“What’s your dream house?” Arthur asked, apparently so bored that he’d resorted to conversation.</p><p>“Not that. I’d like a roof. And a floor that won’t fall to pieces. And, ideally, no secret whomping willow side-doors.”</p><p>Arthur laughed, “What house is complete without a tragic, werewolf backstory, though?”</p><p>Merlin thought Arthur had a good point there. It’d be a more entertaining house-story to tell than ‘there was a manky carpet and the most hideous wallpaper before we renovated’.</p><p>“Not sure if that should be top priority.”</p><p>“Top priority right now is a kiss.”</p><p>Merlin nearly giggled. It was a good thing they weren’t really dating. Arthur had the worst pick-up—</p><p>But apparently Arthur was serious because he reeled him in with his scarf and oh, that was new. He was kissing him on the lips. Wasn’t this crossing some sort of boundary by this point? Merlin wasn’t sure he cared. All he knew was that Arthur’s cologne was even stronger when he was this close to him, filling his senses with vanilla, vanilla, vanilla (and an undertone of pear). And ice-cream really did make your lips cold, but it didn’t much affect the warmth that was <em>Arthur</em>. Solid and real and -- galloping gargoyles.</p><p>Arthur’s ice cream had toppled off its cone and fallen down the back of Merlin’s shirt.</p><p>That explained the kiss then.</p><p>*</p><p>“That’s so romantic,” Gwen sighed when Merlin recounted the day to her when he got back to the Hufflepuff common room.</p><p>He hardly thought walking home with a frozen back was romantic but that was the least of Merlin’s worries. Gwen sounded wistful. As if she really did believe it was romantic. As if anything involving Merlin and Arthur could be romantic.</p><p>“Stop it, you know we’re not actually dating,” Merlin laughed, stretching his legs across the sofa he’d claimed. Hufflepuff really did have the best seating.</p><p>But to Merlin’s utmost confusion, Gwen didn’t join in with his laughter. She sat up in the armchair she was occupying and examined him with a critical eye, looking remarkably similar to Merlin’s grandma when she scolded him.</p><p>“What? Merlin I-I think you may have the wrong end of the broomstick. You’re dating Arthur.”</p><p>Bless her. Gwen thought they were actually dating. To be fair, from an outside perspective he supposed it must look that way. They did everything a couple would do. They just happened to be enemies at the same time, enemies who resented one another.</p><p>“Huh? No, no seriously Gwen, this is all just an Arthur thing, you know, a prank. He’ll get bored soon. He always does. Remember how he used to change my left eyebrow colour every day? It’s like that. Except with kissing and stuff.”</p><p>Goodness, the eyebrow thing had been a pain. Madam Pomfrey once took him out of class because one of his teachers thought he had some sort of eyebrow colour-changing virus.</p><p>“Merlin, I love you very much but you’re an idiot. Arthur’s your boyfriend. Or <em>he thinks</em> he’s your boyfriend at least.”</p><p>This was the most ridiculous thing Merlin had ever heard. Why would Arthur, Arthur Pendragon, want to be Merlin’s boyfriend? Merlin hunched over, sniggering so hard that a few first-year students shuffled away from their corner warily.</p><p>“He’s your boyfriend,” Gwen repeated solemnly. “There’s no joke.”</p><p>Merlin recovered after a moment and tried to take what she was saying seriously. Did Arthur think they were something more? He had seemed nervous, asking Merlin out to Hogsmeade, and the kissing might have been a bit strange…</p><p>“But-I-we there was never any discussion. Don’t you normally talk before deciding things like that?”</p><p>“He says you did talk. You mouthed that you liked him in potions ages ago, after the love potion incident. He tells it like it’s the greatest love story ever written.”</p><p>Merlin shook his head, resolutely, “This is why wizards need technology. He’s never seen Love Actually or Ten Things I Hate About You or even Clueless. God, Gwen, he hasn’t even read <em>fanfic</em>.”</p><p>“Well, yes, that is quite tragic - Clueless is a classic - but that’s beside the point. You’re dating Arthur Pendragon.”</p><p>Merlin paused for a moment, “No, I don’t buy it.”</p><p>“Hey, Gwaine, come here a sec,” Gwen called. Gwaine trotted over from where he’d been inconspicuously eating a muffin. “Do you think Arthur fancies Merlin?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah? You’ve been going out for- how long now? Why, has he dumped you? Do you want me to beat him up?”</p><p>And fuck. If Gwaine could see something more than friendship, then maybe Gwen had a point. Maybe Arthur really did think they were dating.</p><p>*</p><p>Merlin decided to settle the matter once and for all the next day. Hufflepuff house were baking and decorating cupcakes that evening to celebrate the coming out of a second-year student, who very bravely explained to everyone that although she was born a Rupert, she felt happier and more herself being called Rebecca. As head of baking committee, Merlin was appalled to find out that his 'not-boyfriend' didn't know how to make cupcakes and thus Arthur was invited to join them.</p><p>“You know, Gwen thinks we’re dating,” Merlin said casually, watching as Arthur carefully iced a white stripe to the trans flag on his cupcake.</p><p>“Yeah, so?”</p><p>Arthur’s eyebrows were pulled together in concentration and that was the moment it really, properly hit.</p><p>Fuck, he was dating Arthur.</p><p>“I-I just wondered what your thoughts were. On that. On it all,” Merlin said, shrugging. He attempted to hide the fact he was having a complete crisis by weighing out some flour.</p><p>“Wrong type of flour, Merls. And I, er, think it’s pretty clear how I feel. What bit are you confused on?”</p><p>Merlin poured the flour back, accidentally tipping some of it on the floor as he did so. A nearby house elf whizzed over immediately. Whilst they were more than happy to see students taking an interest in cooking and baking, the house elves insisted on helping out with the cleaning. Admittedly, Hufflepuff was not the tidiest of houses, so this was probably a sensible decision.</p><p>“Thanks, Derek,” he said to the house elf, then turned back to Arthur. “Er, just, well, if we’re more than friends or?”</p><p>Arthur frowned, “I know we never formally talked about it, but it’d be a bit strange if we were holding hands and kissing in public and weren’t, er, something? I mean, my dad thinks you’re my boyfriend, but if that’s too much then-”</p><p>Uther Pendragon knew his name. Uther Pendragon thought he was Arthur’s boyfriend. That wasn’t something Merlin could have predicted. Gosh, Merlin had to tell his mum. Annoyingly, he’d have to admit that she was right about whole ‘he’s picking on you because he likes you’ thing.</p><p>“And-and we’ve been dating for how long?”</p><p>“Dunno. Depends how you define ‘dating’ I guess. Things started the first day of classes, of course, but I wouldn’t say anything was <em>official</em> then.” Arthur moved onto the next cupcake, though his hands were shaking slightly. “And-and the love poetry, the next day, I mean I didn’t actually <em>know</em> howlers were quite that shouty, but it got the message across, loud and clear, right? We both <em>knew</em>. I guess our first proper date, Hogsmede, could be considered the defining moment, though you could say that those walks by the lake were dates too. Or maybe when the kissing started? I don’t know. Why?”</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>“I- and don’t take this the wrong way, please- I may not have realised we- that we're, er, boyfriends.”</p><p>Arthur stopped icing the cupcake and moved it to the side, staring down at the counter for a moment and breathing in.</p><p>“We don’t have to be- we could still be dating, if you want? We don’t have to label anything, you know, if you’d rather,” he said, softly.</p><p>Merlin felt the bizarre desire to punch himself. If only he wasn’t so ridiculously clueless... it was agonising to see Arthur so obviously upset, agonising to know it was his fault, agonising to think that Arthur would probably stop kissing him when he explained this all properly...</p><p>Then the penny dropped.</p><p>Merlin liked Arthur.</p><p>Merlin really liked Arthur.</p><p>That’s why the amortentia potion smelt of his cologne. That’s why he quite enjoyed being kissed by him. That’s why he couldn’t stop thinking about him. That’s why he let himself be pestered by him, taken on dates, without objecting.</p><p>He reached for Arthur’s hand and, for the first time, allowed himself to enjoy it without internally conspiring that Arthur wanted him to suffer.</p><p>“It’s not that. I’m happy to be your boyfriend. Which-is-really-weird-to-say-out-loud but." Merlin paused. Fuck. He felt giddy and slightly sick. How long had he liked Arthur? "Yes. I’m delighted, actually. I just-well, I thought maybe, just maybe, this was all a joke?”</p><p>“A joke,” Arthur repeated, hollowly.</p><p>It felt harsh, now that he was seeing things from Arthur’s side, and Merlin cringed at his own words. A joke. He thought their relationship was a joke. Gosh, he really was a <em>nightmare</em>.</p><p>“Not anymore but yes. Like with the eyebrow and the toast and-, you get it. I thought maybe you hated me, but enjoyed confusing me. Like a challenge, you know? Whoever protests or asks what’s going on first is the loser.”</p><p>Arthur pulled his hand out of Merlin’s grip and for one dreadful moment, he thought Arthur was about to either cry or slap him. Both would have been valid responses. But instead, Arthur started shaking.</p><p>Shaking with laughter.</p><p>A few heads turned, Gwen amongst them, who rolled her eyes at Merlin.</p><p>“So… let me get this straight. You’ve been letting me hug you, hold your hand, kiss you, take you out on dates, and all that. Because you haven’t wanted to lose a game that I didn’t even <em>tell you </em>we were playing?”</p><p>That just about summed it up.</p><p>“The winner takes it all.”</p><p>Arthur picked up one of the bare cupcakes and tore it in two, offering half to Merlin.</p><p>“That’s ridiculous. Only you, Merlin, I swear. Only you could be <em>so dense</em> that you didn’t know we were dating.” Doubt settled on Arthur’s face. “Do you <em>actually</em> want to date me?”</p><p>Merlin finished chewing his cupcake half before responding.</p><p>“Yes! Definitely, although I’d like my hand back at breakfast. I’m fed up of eating croissants.”</p><p>“You’re sure you don’t want toast?”</p><p>“Piss off.”</p><p>The impact of this was weakened somewhat by Merlin locking his arms around Arthur’s neck to pull him into a kiss, lips far warmer than they had been after the ice-cream, mind at ease that they were kissing because they wanted to. Because Arthur was his boyfriend. Because Merlin really really liked him.</p><p>“M’kay. Now that we’ve got that settled, would you be like to go to Nick’s death-day party with me?”</p><p>That had to be the strangest first date idea ever. But Merlin rather liked spooky ghosts and, moreover, had recently discovered that he really really liked Arthur. So that made it all okay.</p><p>“Are you asking me on a date?” he teased Arthur, pecking him on the cheek and-okay, he could see why Arthur kissed him so much now. The blush on Arthur's cheek made his heart leap.</p><p>He got back to sieving the flour, recognising that they were slacking in their cupcake duties.</p><p>“Please now assume that everything – <em>literally everything </em>– I invite you to is a date,” Arthur emphasised, and knocked the sieve with his elbow by accident, showering them both in flour. Idiot, he tutted and picked up a handful of flour to throw at Arthur.</p><p>He couldn’t stop smiling. Merlin pretended that the flour was snow, pretended they were Bridget Jones and Mark Darcy in the ‘Nice Boys Don’t Kiss Like That’ scene. And reached over to kiss him again, ruffling Arthur’s hair as he did so to brush off the flour, lips warm and soft against his own. </p><p>“I look forward to properly dating you then. Oh, but I want chocolate, and flowers, or chocolate flowers? Are they a thing? They should be.”</p><p>He was joking, of course. Merlin knew he’d been a pretty lousy boyfriend thus far. He hadn’t asked Arthur on dates, opened up about his feelings <em>or</em> bought him presents (hadn't even realised he was a boyfriend, w h o o p s). But that was all about to change. Merlin was already devising a plan for valentine’s day, envisioning Derek the house-elf dressed up as a cherub, throwing rose petals at Arthur all day. Because whilst Arthur was better at dating than Merlin was, he wasn’t going to forgive him for the howler or Morgana’s ‘prophecy’ anytime soon. </p><p>“You’re going to be a really annoying boyfriend now you know we’re dating, aren’t you?” Arthur sighed, as if reading his mind.</p><p>The answer to that was, unsurprisingly, yes. He had to make up for lost time, play his part of the game properly.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don't even know if this counts as fanfic because honestly it's 90% meme, 10% plot, but hey ho. Apparently I either ramble on about imagery or make stupid puns... Hope you enjoyed anyway.<br/>There are a great many Hogwarts AU fics on here that I'd like to mention, such as Emrys Ascending and Merlin Emrys and the Legend of Excalibur (to name just a couple). Masterpieces. I could write poetry about how wonderful they are. There's also a load of Hogwarts AU fics that have been uploaded over the last week that deserve some love (Rivalry &amp; Redemption, The Wizarding Kingdom of Camelot, An Idiot Hufflepuff and an Arrogant Gryffindor, Merlin Emrys and the Damned School of Magic, The Hat is Never Wrong).<br/>Massive love, yet again, for my beta reader, fellow ABBA fan helgaahufflepuff.<br/>Stay safe everyone and thanks again for reading! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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